If you ever run out of stupid things to do, just call me......

I've got plenty of ideas. For instance: take a 35 year old canopy that last
saw daylight in the 70's, and after a perfunctory inspection, forming the
opinion that it "will probably work", having used a large vise, a big hammer
and a punch to help install it, using risers that "probably should be
grounded", muscle it into a tandem container with several important handles
removed and a pilot chute "borrowed" from a student rig. To make sure it's
not too easy, jump the contraption out of a non-standard jump plane at
minimal altitude next door to a control zone into a landing area the size of
a baseball diamond surrounded by tall trees with a quarry if you overshoot,
power lines if you undershoot, and forest on each side. Of course, since you
really don't know just what the heck is going to happen with the damn thing
you should leave your last line of defense - your AAD - off.
But really, what could possibly go wrong? It's not like we're doing CRW!
Thank-you, to Neil, Barry, Mike, Kjeld, and the guy who invented the PLF. A
special thankyou to Karina, who missed the first one, which caused me to go
up for "Round Two", which I almost relaxed enough to enjoy.
Been there, done that, and I don't ever intend to go there again.
Crazy Larry

Maybe It Wasn't So Bad

Did my first 4-way in a month this afternoon. I had to explain all the
slots, brief and detail the exit and every single move for the entire
skydive. Two grips got dropped on the exit, people sank out and popped up
all over the place, they grip-switched and grabbed everything they could
reach. When we went for the satellite the tail flyer took a sidebody on me
and dragged me away from the point so hard I had to go into a track to drag
us back. The whole formation was spinning the entire time, and there was
nothing I could do that so much as slowed it down. There was no discipline
whatsoever, they were all over-amped and wound up so tight it's a wonder
they remembered to breathe. I got slammed, hit, and slapped, I've got
bruises coming out on both arms from where people gripped me, and I had to
beat people off me at breakoff.
When I landed I was thoroughly ticked off and all I wanted to do was give
those idiots shit for their complete lack of control and for ignoring all my
instructions about focusing, eye contact, and grip discipline.
Then I could hear them landing behind me, laughing and shouting with
excitement, thrilled to pieces about the best and highest scoring skydive
any of them had ever been on.
Maybe the jump wasn't that bad after all.
Larry

Covention Epitaph

At least it wasn't unexpected....

8 Conventions, somewhere around 500 jumps, 2 trashed tents, enough cash to
buy that Mustang I've always wanted, a truly ridiculous amount of beer, so
many aircraft I lost track years ago, a Muff #, a Skydog #, a Pathetic Loser
#, a Flying Hellfish #, a world record, all the gear I presently own, a
whole bunch of out of focus pictures of half naked drunks, some memories,
some mammaries, a few storms........okay, a whole bunch of fuckin' wild blow
the farm into the next county prairie storms, floods, droughts, heat waves,
cold snaps, lots of Vodka, yeah, yeah, lots and lots of Vodka, Early Birds,
Dirty Birds, sunset loads, late nights, early mornings, great bands, burning
couches, some Bricks, some Brothers, some Darts, a girl with artificially
(spectacularly!) enhanced breasts in a bikini and a rig riding an inflatable
alligator, (Matt1 has video!) some tailgates, some tail, some attitude, some
altitude, no gratitude, a couple of Magic Carpet Rides, a Bloomin Idiot or
two, Blondes Brunettes and Baldies, some swoops, some swaps, autographs - a
whole bunch of kids actually asked me for my autograph!!!, the legendary
Matt Matt Larry Larry dive (you think you've been in a confusing dirt dive?
try that one after you've already done 8 dives that day), 2 Big Green
Torpedoes, one of which put Matt1 on a ceiling, and the other one made me
see stars, a drawer full of t-shirts, 2 Staff hats of which I am
inordinately proud, the mayors wife dressed in a shower curtain complete
with rod, a Margarita Bar inside a Herc, FREE BEER!!!!!, .............and on
and on and on.

That's what the Convention means to me, and a group of people who are some of my best friends.

Some quotes: Matt1: "Put me down for whatever, I'm gonna go lower my wing
loading and be back for the dirt dive". Kelly: " I'm not going to do that in
public, but I'll take pictures if you want to give it a try". Bob: "Are you
on medication? Would you like to try some of mine?" Larry Dewey: "So, is
that Canadian Beer?". Joanne: "You should be on medication, here, have
another beer". Matt2 - actually, I couldn't do Matt2 justice, he sends some
of the funniest emails I've ever read. Downwind: "Can I get hurt doing
this?" Scuba Joe: "Do you have a faster suit than that? Maybe you should
just go naked and wear weights." Garage Door Ray: "Are you sure your helmet
is thick enough for this skydive?" Anita: "Now everybody take a deep breath,
get into your warm fuzzy place, relax, have a good time, and don't worry
about the planet that that's about to get jammed up your ass". Rick: "Can't
we all, just, get along?". Don Kirlin: "The jet will be here tomorrow".
Brent:" Okay here's the plan, I saw it in a cartoon once but I think I know
where they went wrong". Darryld: " Okay here's the plan, oh wait, there's
one more person, okay, here's the plan, oh wait, there's two more people,
okay, here's the plan, oh wait, the General just showed up, here's the plan,
yadda yadda yadda" (But his dives were always entertaining). Nuclear George:
"Have you seen my wife's breasts? Would you like to?"

The Convention that will not be would have started tomorrow. But instead of
sitting in a lawn chair surrounded by my idiot friends, in the middle of a
rapidly filling campground in what would've become the Worlds Biggest Drop
Zone for 10 days, I am at home, sitting on the deck. Tomorrow, instead of
rising to the sound of the King Air starting its high-speed descent, I'll be
getting up and tearing the roof off the garage. And every morning for the
next 9 days, everytime I drag my ass out of bed, I will have to suppress the
urge to grab my gear, and, rattling Matts tent on the way past, head for the
loading tents to make the Dirty Bird Load at 7:15.

No Casa's, no Biplane, no Jet, no live band every night. My friends
scattered to different events, where we're all making new friends, and
waiting for our next chance to jump together.

On Monday I will be leaving for the Canadian Nationals with my carefully
selected, hand-picked 4-way team. Translation: 3 poor souls I convinced to
go with me. And an 8-way team, and a 10-way Speed team. At least, that's the
plan. But everybody knows what usually happens to my plans.

To those who are going to the Un-Conventional, or to Summerfest, I wish you
Blue Skies, Light Winds, Hot Skydives, and I miss you already. To anyone
foolish enough to come join me in Burnaby, Bring all the booze you can
carry!, we'll need it!

Crazy Larry

Training for Airspeed 4-Way Camp

This was what I sent out to all participants of a 4-way camp I was going to attend when the organizer of the camp sent out a detailed letter on how to prepare for the camp, and what equipment to bring. I had attended several of these camps before and based on my experiences came up with my own plan on how to best prepare myself.

I've taken your advice right to heart and have been training hard to prepare myself for the camp. I rise everyday at 6:00, have a cool shower, and after choking down a stale bagel washed down with bad lukewarm coffee, I put myself through a series of stretches that would make Chris proud. Then, to simulate time in the tunnel, I get on one of my creepers (yes, I have my own creepers), and after blindfolding myself, I start working through the blocks, crashing into the pool table, the concrete walls, the jackposts and the workbench, bouncing off the Beer Machine, the table saw and the wine racks. Once I feel sufficiently beaten up, I go out onto the deck over the garage and hang off the railing for about a minute before I throw myself off, landing in the bed of the pickup truck. Following that, I bodyslam myself off the walls in the garage every 10 seconds for a minute at a time.

After about 9 hours of this, eating next to nothing and drinking more water than any normal person could suck down in a week, I head for the bar at the end of the street and order the greasiest thing they have on the menu and wash it down with all the beer and Vodka I can hold. I'll stay there drinking and shooting pool until closing time, then stagger home to get a few hours sleep before rising the next day to start the cycle all over again.

The temperature in the house has been set to 95F for the last week, and anytime I have to drive anywhere I keep my foot on the floor for the whole trip, sliding sideways through intersections and ignoring all traffic signs.

I'm scraped and scratched, beaten and bruised, dehydrated, and hurt everywhere.

Usually I don't feel like this till the end of the skills camp.

I think I'm starting to hit my stride.

Run away. Be afraid. Be very afraid.  

Larry

Dust

Everywhere. The type and thickness varies, but it's everywhere. Food is
gritty, and anything that doesn't come out of a sealed container tastes
like chalk. I tried to keep it at bay, but I've been overwhelmed.
In 3 weeks I've gutted most of the ground floor, tearing out the carpet,
floor tile, baseboards and trim, a couple support walls, chunks of ceiling,
and most of a kitchen. All that's left is a short piece of counter with the
sink in it, and enough space left over to hold a microwave and a toaster.
Cut a hole in the basement floor and dug down deep enough to be able to mix
15 bags of cement for a footing. Built and installed a ceiling beam out of
2x8's that spans over half the width of the house, reinforced the floor
joists on 2 floors, and installed a total of 5 jackposts on 2 different
floors to hold it all up. All the plumbing for the upstairs had to be
rerouted, as well as most of the heating ducts. Cyr and I spent 3 days
rewiring half the house, and the new location for the kitchen ( I moved it
to the other side of the house) has been roughed in with enough outlets and
lighting to make Tim Taylor proud. There's even going to be lights inside
some of the cupboards. Scraped and sanded all the stucco off the ceiling,
built a false wall to hold all the wiring and to make it easier to mount
some of the cupboards. Installed the venting for the new range hood that's
powerful enough to suck a frypan up off the stove and required an exhaust
pipe the same size as the main plenum coming off my furnace. The whole space
has been turned into one large room, with one column that holds up the
second floor which contains a chase with some of the plumbing and heating
and will be incorporated into the corner of the new kitchen counter. I've
gone through a ridiculous amount of lumber, 12 sheets of drywall, miles of
wire, and more pizza than I've seen in several years. (My friends don't work
for free) Everything is prepped and ready for Sylvain to come in and start
putting on mud on Friday night, which will lead to a whole new tide of dust.
I should be painting on Monday, and putting up the coffered ceiling by the
end of the week. There's a complete custom kitchen on order, and a bunch of
sparkling new appliances sitting in crates in the garage. And I've screwed.
Floors, walls, ceilings, electrical boxes, the list is endless. I've picked
out the new flooring (hardwood), and will have to glue and screw another
layer of plywood down to carry it. A bunch of neighbors have wanted to try
this, but common sense has prevented them.
It's going well, and I should be done for spring. If I don't choke to death
on the dust.

This sure is a lot more fun than my real job.
Larry